


Stain

by everydaysoul



Series: Kink meme fills and other fun things [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comeplay, Felching, Gangbang, M/M, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:37:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7505014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everydaysoul/pseuds/everydaysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam loves playing with Dean's sore, used hole after each gangbang. Gives him one last, hard fuck while he's still all wet and sloppy inside, then makes him clean it all up when he's done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stain

**Author's Note:**

> Kink meme fill (http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/113143.html?thread=41641719#t41641719), for archiving purposes

Sam counts at least three different men eyeing his brother. They’re all big guys, probably part of some biker gang passing by, dressed in leather jackets and tattoos over tanned skin. He pretends to sip at his drink as he watches one of them motion to their buddies sitting at the bar, then openly jerks a thumb over his shoulder at Dean, who just preens at the attention.

He just hopes Dean doesn’t piss them off too much. There’s at least – fuck, there’s _seven_ of them altogether – and none of them look like they’re going to be gentle with him.

“I’m leaving,” Sam announces. There’s no point in him staying any longer – Dean’s been fidgeting for the past ten minutes or so, all of Sam’s attempts at conversation either falling on deaf ears or earning himself uninterested grunts at the most – he knows how Dean gets when he’s this antsy. He’ll just go back to the motel, maybe get himself some beer on the way back and hope there’s something other than soap opera reruns on tv.

“Uh,” Dean says, already sounding distracted.

Sam frowns. “Come back as soon as you’re done.”

“Uh.”

Sam sighs. He tucks a small fold of bills under his glass, slides off his seat and goes to pull Dean close. Dean instantly goes tense, and Sam feels a small thrill of satisfaction at how he utterly _owns_ Dean.

“You know the rules. And don’t you dare clean up before you get back, I want to see how much of a mess they make of your slutty hole.”

“Gotcha, Sammy,” Dean says faintly.

“See you later,” Sam says.

He winks at one of the guys as he leaves.

 

 

 

Dean turns up over three hours later, wide-eyed and stinking of sweat and sex. Sam turns around just in time to see Dean stopping in the doorway to lean against the wall, panting hard. Half the buttons on his shirt are done up wrong and he’s missing his belt.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean says, “Fucking _hurts_ to walk.”

Sam smirks. He loves this look on Dean, all fucked out and exhausted and wrecked but still eager to please, to spread his legs for Sam for yet another round. “I don’t care. Strip and get on the bed.”

And of course Dean obeys right away, peeling off his jeans and shirt – no underwear, as always, so he can feel the persistent scratch of the rough denim against his used hole – and stumbling as he goes, letting out a small hiss as he falls onto the bed in an awkward sprawl. The biker dudes must have been _very_ thorough with him, judging from the way Dean keeps making small sounds of distress every time he moves, and Sam feels his cock throb in arousal.

“How many this time?” Sam inquires mildly, standing at the foot of the bed, slowly undoing his own shirt, enjoying the sight of Dean laid out before him like a debauched whore, all loose limbs and swollen nipples, faint bruises already blooming across his hips. 

“I dunno,” Dean mumbles, turning his face away as though he’s too humiliated to admit it, “Eight, maybe? Lost count after the third guy, they were fucking my mouth too.”

Sam snorts. “Wouldn’t have made a difference if you had ten or a hundred cocks in you, bet you’re so ruined your hole can’t get any looser,” he says softly. He lets his shirt slide to the floor, unzipping his jeans just enough to pull out his cock from the confines of his boxers.

“It’s fucking dripping all over my legs,” Dean says, and sure enough his thighs are streaked in sticky trails of white. Sam runs a finger through the drying come, almost _disappointed_ at the waste.

“Show me,” he says. “Spread your ass and show me that slutty hole of yours. Stay on your back,” he adds, when he sees Dean pushing himself up on his elbows, “Wanna see your face, you whore.”

Because Dean looks gorgeous when he’s flushing red in humiliation, eyes screwing up like he can’t bear to look Sam in the face. Sam decides he’s going to make Dean keep his eyes open this time, wants to see how beautifully expressive face will scrunch up when Sam finally fucks into him.

“ _Sam_ ,” Dean whines, but he obeys, pulling his knees up to his chest and hooking his arms around his thighs, fingers slipping in the slick lube still smeared all over his ass as he spreads his cheeks for Sam.

And _fuck,_ Sam swears under his breath when he sees Dean’s hole, raw and swollen and sloppy. He’s _gaping_ like a proper whore, empty hole twitching uselessly around nothing with each heave of his chest like his hole is trying to clench itself shut again but he’s been fucked so thoroughly that he’s probably ruined for good.

“Keep yourself open,” he orders, and crawls up to kneel between Dean’s legs.

His fingers circle around Dean’s puffy rim – he’s amazed that Dean isn’t crying out in pain because he must be as sore as fuck – and he experimentally rubs against the reddened flesh, and is pleased when he’s rewarded with a sudden, surprised-sounding moan of pleasure from Dean.

“Shit, that felt good,” Dean says, eyes fluttering shut again, and Sam really must make sure he keeps his eyes open when he’s fucking him later.

“That’s because you’re a slut,” Sam says harshly, “Look at you, all sloppy and wet and wide open, and you still need more. You’re a fucking cockslut, Dean.”

“ _Sammyyy-”_

“Keep your eyes open,” Sam directs, then lowers his voice into a taunt. “Think you’re sloppy enough to take my cock just like this? Bet you’re loose enough to take anything I give you now. Bet you’re so full of come I won’t even need lube.”

Sam easily slips two, then three fingers into Dean, right up to the knuckle and has to bite back his groan when he feels how _wet_ Dean is, come liberally painting his insides, muscles warm and loose. He pulls his hand out slightly, then pushes four of his fingers in and Dean’s hole just opens up for him like it’s barely any strain on his overtired muscles.

He thrusts his hand in again, punching in and out, using so much force that Dean’s bodily shoved up the bed with every thrust. Dean lets out desperate noises as Sam finger fucks him, clearly too far gone to form any coherent words, which suits Sam perfectly.

“I wonder how far you could go,” Sam says softly, “If you could take twenty, thirty cocks all in a row, pass you around for everyone to have a go at you, how loose you would be. And I would make you keep it all in,” he draws his hand out, careful to keep as much of the filthy mess of come in Dean, “make you hold it in, watch as you try to clench yourself up but it’ll still leak out anyway, run down your legs, mark you like the whore you are.”

Dean whines again. Sam taps Dean’s hands where he’s still holding his own ass up and open, an unspoken reminder to keep himself spread, and lines himself up with Dean’s hole.

A bead of come’s threatening drip down, shiny and glistening against the swollen edge of Dean’s entrance, and Sam drags the tip of his cock through it to push it back in.

“Ever thought about all the cocks you’ve had up your slutty little ass?” Sam says. “How many stranger’s dicks you’ve ridden, how many people you’ve let come in you, like you’re a whore to be fucked and used? Because that’s all you’re ever good for, having your holes stuffed full of cock and filled with come. You’re a fucking come dump, you could have a cock up your ass every hour of the day and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

He finally fucks in, the fat head of his cock slipping right through the stretched muscle with a wet squelch and there’s no resistance at all as Sam buries himself entirely in Dean in one smooth thrust. He can feel all the come around his cock, slick and hot still from the warmth of Dean’s body, and it’s glorious.

“You’re such a slut,” Sam says, falling down to brace himself, elbows caging Dean in around his shoulders, “but you’re _my_ slut, you’re _mine_ ,” and he punctuates that last word with a vicious thrust that makes Dean keen in a low wail of pleasure.

He keeps up the punishing pace, loving how Dean gasps and moans and cries out as he fucks him roughly, how obscene and _wet_ it feels as he fucks Dean through what feels like the flood of come soaking through his insides. How he’s pounding into Dean so hard that little drops of it trickle out his fucked-out hole.

“Eyes. Open,” Sam snarls when he notices Dean trying to close his eyes again. “Look at me while I’m fucking you, _whore_.”

“Sammy, _please,_ ” Dean begs, and his hands slide up to wrap around Sam’s ass like he needs Sam even deeper in him.

“Say it,” Sam says. “Say it, tell me what a cockslut you are.”

“Yes,” Dean says pathetically, and it looks like he’s so fucked out that it’s a struggle for him to form the words but Sam wants to hear him say it, “I’m a cockslut.”

“You’re _my_ cockslut.”

“Your… your cockslut,” Dean whispers, then cuts off in a moan as Sam fucks right against the sensitive nerves within him.

“No matter how many strangers you fuck, you’ll still come crawling back to me because you can never get enough,” Sam says, now making sure to hit Dean’s prostate with every thrust and he loves how Dean’s shaking, his eyes are rolling back in his head from the overstimulation, “And I would make sure your hole’s always gaping and sloppy, always dripping with so much come that you’ll never forget you’re meant to be a cockslut and nothing else.”

Dean just moans in response. Sam smirks.

“Did those guys let you come? Think you can come again?”

Dean shakes his head weakly. “No, I think I’m dry, shot my entire load when they were fucking me.”

Sam grins. “Good,” he says.

And he makes sure to fuck deep into Dean when he comes, a wonderful tightening of his balls that sends ripples of pleasure across his spine as he spurts right into Dean, adding his own come to the mess already all over within him. Dean seems to sense it, the way he suddenly moans loudly, nails digging crescents into Sam’s hips.

“You’re so wet,” Sam says. He pulls out, pushes Dean’s thighs apart wider to admire Dean’s fucked open hole. It looks even redder now, the muscles stretched so much that he can see the dark white-pink of Dean’s come-covered insides.

“I can feel it,” Dean says hoarsely. “God, Sam, I can feel your come filling me up.”

Sam dips his fingers in, one hand keeping Dean’s legs spread and pinching lightly when Dean squirms, sensitive when Sam deliberately brushes up against his prostate. He goes as deep as he can reach, easily scoops up the thick come on the pads of his fingers.

“Lick,” he says, pressing his fingers against Dean’s lips, smearing it about and smirking as Dean’s tongue darts out to taste the filthy mix of come before desperately licking it all up, “Don’t worry, there’s a lot more where that came from. Gonna make you clean it all up until you’re all empty inside,” his fingers go back to Dean’s hole, easily scrapes out more come to feed him, “Don’t want to let any of it go to waste, do we?”

“And when we’re done cleaning you out,” Sam goes on, this time holding his hand away from Dean’s lips so he has to crane his neck to reach – like a true comeslut, so eager to lick up all the come right from his own ass – “We’ll just drop by the bar again, see if we can find anyone else to fuck you all over again.”

Dean moans around his fingers. 

**Author's Note:**

> ... why


End file.
